[Pharoahe Monch] My mom is in the bedroom, cryin again Sister's on the street corner, lyin again Just heard about another one of my niggaz dyin again I'm tryin again to make moves.. I'll be damned if we go hungry Ever since my pops passed the responsibilities belonged to me This song you see is like an ode to God that he blessed my last breath to be Allah U Akbar And this city is hard, tenement buildings are barred incarcerated and scarred, no sentiment for when it becomes time for war I'm tryin to score like Bernard King My vocal box sling verbal cocaine like the GOVERNMENT I told you I'd hurt the music Travellin back, bustin shots at {blank} before Christ was persecuted Mathematically we live at right angles Fuck the star spangled, the makers of fallen angels danglin from moon crescents, I persevere, breathe the air inhale the effervesence of life This street game is stiflin I'm triflin upholdin a rifle Peerin from behind the eyes of God, we at odds with ourselves What is it worth when this - barren metropolis prevail Scale the walls of hell - trail of a octopus..